The Ghost and Mr Guster
by noturbaby
Summary: Gus, here's the thing, ghosts don't kill people. And that girl in there was murdered. We can't let ghosts and curses stop us from solving the real crime here.  Season 2 spn the boys hunting YED Season 1 Psych, Shawn is still trying to prove himself. no /
1. Chapter 1

**The Ghost and Mr. Guster**

_1989- Santa Barbara, California 3:17am _

In the kitchen of the Spencer household, a very tired Henry Spencer sat with two very anxious twelve year olds. Though Shawn was beginning to show signs of sleepiness, Burton Guster was wide awake. His wide eyes darted to every noise he heard, imagined or real.

Henry may have been tired, but that didn't stop him from being annoyed. He didn't mind sleepovers. Heck, he even thought the Guster kid was a good influence on Shawn. What annoyed him was the negative effect Shawn seemed to be having on Gus. Henry doubted that Gus would have stayed up past the established curfew, let alone watched Poltergeist if Shawn hadn't been behind it. Now that the local channel had stopped broadcasting and was only showing static, the boys were terrified. Well, at least Gus was.

"I don't know how many times or how many different ways I can tell you, but there're no such things as ghosts," Henry said emphatically.

The boys nodded. Shawn looked squarely at his father. "What about killer clown dolls?"

Henry was stumped. "What?"

"Killer clown dolls," Shawn repeated while Gus nodded enthusiastically. "Anyone in their right mind would be afraid of those things."

"Don't forget the killer trees," Gus added. Henry closed his eyes and sighed.

_1989- Housatonic, Massachusetts Earlier that same night…_

John Winchester pulled his Impala into its spot in front of his rented room at the Mayflower Hotel. He looked at himself in the rearview mirror. His eye was beginning to blacken, his lip was split and swollen. "Damn poltergeist," he muttered, knowing Sammy was going to worry about what had happened when he saw him in the morning.

Sighing, John made his way into his room and was surprised to see his boys were still awake. "Daddy!" Sammy yelled as he nearly tackled John in a hug, but not before John had noticed the tears streaming down his face.

"What's wrong, Sammy?" John looked at his other son for an answer.

Dean looked exhausted. He rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the bed. "Sorry, Dad," he began. "You know how Donna promised to take us to the festival tonight?"

John nodded as he picked his youngest up and carried him to the bed. "What happened? Did she cancel?"

"No, we went. But, the festival was crawling with clowns," Dean replied with a sigh.

John shook his head. Ghosts, demons, those he could understand terrifying someone, but clowns? Gimme a break, he thought to himself. "Sammy," he said, mustering a smile though it hurt his lip, "I promise no clown is going to get you now that I'm around."

"Thanks, Daddy," Sammy yawned and allowed his father to tuck him into bed. Dean rolled his eyes again and shook his head. He had spent the last several hours saying the same thing. Not that it mattered, obviously.

* * *

**2006 Santa Barbara, California**

Shawn Spencer was bouncing on the balls of his feet while he waited for Burton (Gus) Guster. In fact, he was so anxious to see his best friend, that Gus wasn't allowed to enter their beach bungalow office. Instead, Shawn accosted him on the sidewalk. "Gus, Gus, my man. We've got to get going. Come on," he said, grabbing Gus by the arm and turning him around.

"Shawn," Gus began.

"No time for delays, Gus. The women's auxiliary of the Santa Barbara Founding Families waits for no man," Shawn interrupted. "Not even for men as awesome as us."

"Shawn, why do I have to be there for your speech? I have a real job, remember?" Gus demanded, asserting his attitude.

"Yes, I am well aware of your other pursuits, Gus, but, this is the women's auxiliary. Gus, Women."

"You do realize that although some of these women may be single, not a single one of them is under the age of 65, Shawn?" Gus took his turn at interrupting.

Shawn looked insulted for a second. "Yes, Gus, but do you realize that these women bake?" Gus raised his brows with interest. "And that they baked a pineapple upside down cake just for us, in addition to our monetary compensation?"

"Why didn't you say that in the first place?" Gus asked with a jaunty tilt of his head.

Upon arrival at the women's auxiliary of the Santa Barbara Founding Families' newly acquired, newly refurbished mission style mansion, Gus and Shawn were surprised to find the Santa Barbara Police Department had decided to send a contingent to Shawn's speech. Detectives Lassiter and O'Hara and even Police Chief Vick were there with a couple of uniforms.

The moment Detective Juliet O'Hara saw Shawn and Gus, she approached them. "Wow, Shawn, the psychic vibe is really working today. We haven't even had a chance to call yet."

Gus was about to inform her that Shawn had been scheduled to address the ladies luncheon today when Shawn spoke up, "Yes, Jules, the spirits are speaking loudly today, telling us we are needed here."

Detective Lassiter finally became aware that his partner had left him to speak with Shawn Spencer and rolled his eyes in annoyance. "O'Hara, if you don't mind, we have actual police work to do!"

However, Mrs. DuMont, the head of the women's auxiliary, noticed Shawn had arrived and rushed over. "Mr. Spencer, Mr. Spencer! Oh, thank heavens you're here!" Mrs. DuMont called from where she stood with Chief Vick. Shawn noticed the woman was flushed and looked close to tears. "Please, come right this way." She took Shawn by his arm. In turn, Shawn grabbed Gus's arm.

They were about to be led into the building, when Detective. Lassiter spoke up, "Mrs. DuMont, you should really leave this in the hands of the professionals of the Santa Barbara Police Department."

"Oh, but I am, Detective Lassiter. Shawn Spencer is a professional with the Santa Barbara Police," Mrs. DuMont declared. "Mr. Spencer is the only member of your department capable of getting to the bottom of this horrendous crime."

Shawn smirked at Lassiter before smiling graciously at Mrs. DuMont. With a slight bow of his head he said, "Thank you, Mrs. DuMont, for recognizing true talent even when it comes in unconventional packaging." He took the woman's arm. "Please lead the way."

Escorted by Detectives Lassiter and O'Hara, and Chief Vick, Mrs. DuMont led Shawn and Gus into the Historical Society's newly renovated manse. The once immaculate setting had been completely destroyed. Display cases were shattered, their contents strewn across the room. Shawn scanned the area as quickly as possible, eyes finally settling on the most disturbing site in the room. A body, dressed in black lay at the far end. Examining the figure from his vantage point wasn't easy, but Shawn had already gleaned some valuable information.

Touching his middle finger to his temple, he began to mumble. Mrs. DuMont's eyes widened. "Mr. Spencer, what is it?" Chief Vick asked, thinly veiling her annoyance at his presence. "Do your senses pick up on something?"

His voice a harsh whisper, Shawn answered, "Death, so much death."

"Yes!" Mrs. DuMont's enthusiasm for Shawn had her speaking in a near shout. "Oh, Mr. Spencer, someone did die, right over there!" She pointed to the body on the far side of the room. She moved to face Shawn. "What else do you see, Mr. Spencer? Is their spirit still here? Can they tell you why they did this to our beautiful museum? Can they tell you what happened to them?"

Shawn pretended to swoon, forcing Gus to catch him. "Mrs. DuMont, the spirits are angry, so very angry."

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "That's enough, Spencer. Let's let the CSI crew get what they need in here before you go all phony baloney on us and contaminate my crime scene."

"Lassie, I believe I have already established a—"

"Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster," Chief Vick interrupted Shawn before he could irritate Lassiter much more, "I believe we will require your services, but for now you will have to step outside. Detective Lassiter is right, the CSI guys need to get in here."

Shawn took Mrs. DuMont's hand, "Please rest assured, Mrs. DuMont, my partner and I will get to the bottom of this and see that all of your stolen items are returned and that the perpetrator of this terrible crime is brought to justice."

"Oh, Mr. Spencer, the women's auxiliary and I can't thank you enough for your help," Mrs. DuMont gushed.

"O'Hara, get them out of here," the chief ordered.

As they left, Juliet's face wrinkled in thought. "Shawn, how did you know something was missing? Mrs. DuMont hasn't even had time to do an inventory, yet."

"Jules," Shawn tried not to sound condescending, "my mind is a terrible thing to waste."

* * *

Early the next morning, Dean Winchester was enjoying the view that the Santa Barbara Oceanside Hotel offered with their open air café: plenty of women jogging along the Oceanside path. When two, exceptionally beautiful, women jogged by and smiled at him, Dean looked over to his brother to see if he had noticed. However, Sam Winchester had his nose buried in the morning's paper. Dean shook his head, "Sammy, you wouldn't know a good time if it kicked sand in your Wheaties."

"Huh?" Sam looked up from the paper.

"Nothing," Dean huffed leaning back in his chair. "What's so interesting in that paper that you can't enjoy the scenery, Sammy?"

Sam glared at his brother in irritation before he handed over the paper and pointed at a headline near the bottom of the page. "The historical society was robbed."

"And?" Dean scanned the article, but waited for his brother to fill in the pertinent details.

"And, Mrs. DuMont, the head of the society, claims the place is haunted and she's made sure the Santa Barbara police hired their psychic."

Dean put the paper aside to take a pull from his coffee. He squinted at the sun reflecting off the ocean, before he spoke. "The haunting is probably a gimmick to bring in tourists and the psychic is probably a charlatan." Sam was about to interrupt, but Dean continued, "However, if you think this is something we should check out, I'm all for staying in Santa Barbara for a couple extra days." Dean subtly turned to watch another girl jog by.

Sam pursed his lips in annoyance. "Dean, yeah, I think it may be a chance to meet this psychic. Shawn Spencer may be another kid that fell off the radar…."

Dean folded up the paper. "If you think there's a chance this guy is one of the yellow eye's special kids, then I guess we'll check him out."

Mrs. DuMont handed the young agent a cup of coffee. "Agent Wyman, it was awful, simply awful."

"I understand how troubling these things can be," Dean said as he attempted to console her. "My partner, Agent Watts, and I can assure you that we will do everything in our power to bring these people to justice."

Mrs. DuMont put a hand on her chest and gasped. "That is almost exactly what the psychic, Shawn Spencer, said. Have you spoken with him?"

"Not yet," Sam spoke up, "but we plan to."

Mrs. DuMont nodded. "He knew someone had been murdered the moment he entered the room. He also knew items were stolen before I even had a chance to examine our display cases." The agents exchanged looks.

"Why don't you tell me what happened from the beginning, while my partner takes a look around," Dean smiled graciously at the elderly woman.

"Well, Mr. Spencer was supposed to give a talk to our luncheon group, but when I arrived, I found the back door had been forced open," she paused, her eyes widening dramatically. "When I got the nerve to enter, I found everything a shambles and our new display cases, dedicated to Jack Powers, destroyed."

"Jack Powers?" Dean confirmed, writing the name on his small pad of paper.

"Yes, he was a notorious gangster in the early history of Santa Barbara," Mrs. DuMont informed him. "In fact, the necklace involved in the death of his mistress, was one of the missing items."

Dean and Sam exchanged looks from across the room. "What else was missing?" Sam asked.

"Well, Agent Watts, I gave the list I typed to the police, but, I do remember most of it," the woman smiled slightly as she struggled to rise from her chair.

"Ma'am, please," Dean held out his arm for her, which she accepted with a gracious smile. "We appreciate your efforts, but whatever you can remember is fine. You don't have to retype it."

Mrs. DuMont patted Dean's hand, "Dear, I'm just going to hit the print button. It should just take a minute." Sam hid his small smirk. "But, the few things I remember off the top of my head are the necklace and Jack Power's gun."

* * *

Shawn and Gus waited in the hall outside the coroner's office. They had tried to speak with Woody while he worked, but Gus came near to fainting too many times and had to leave. Gus leaned against the wall, his color returning from the green it had become when faced with the corpse.

"Juliet!" Shawn's greeting was jubilant considering the surroundings, "What did Woody learn from our dead girl?"

"Nothing we didn't already know," she began. "Cause of death, strangulation," she looked at him, "no murder weapon determined. Our 'vic' was Loni Taylor. She had a criminal record, not much, mostly theft."

Shawn looked over at Gus, then touched his forehead, "Oh, I, uh," he began to talk as if he were being choked. "I see, I see…a necklace. Gold, yes gold."

The detective's eyes widened. "Shawn! Mrs. DuMont had a gold necklace listed among her missing items. You think that was the murder weapon?"

Shawn smirked knowingly. "Jules, psychic remember?" With his eyes closed, he touched his temple "And I'm sensing something else metallic, old -"

"It was the historical society, Spencer, everything is old," Detective. Lassiter added with an annoyed sigh.

Shawn opened an eye to peer at him. "Lassie, please, don't be petty. It hinders the spirit mojo." He closed his eyes, held his hand up in the shape of a gun and acted as if it was being waved at his companions. "A gun. Yes, I sense a gun."

Gus stepped back from his friend. His mind was buzzing a million miles an hour. Shawn gave him a quick concerned look, but returned his attention to the detectives.

"Yes, a gun from the Jack Powers collection was also missing!" Jules looked from the case file to Shawn. "Shawn, that's amazing."

Shawn straightened his shoulders, puffed out his chest, "Yeah, I am pretty amazing. Just look at my hair, that should be proof of my awesomen-"

"Shawn!" Gus hissed at him and pulled Shawn backwards causing him to stumble. "I gotta talk to you."

O'Hara noticed Gus's odd behavior, and wrinkled her brow, but Lassiter started to walk away. "Well, Shawn, when your amazing brain comes up with more, call me," Juliet smiled before joining in step with her partner.

Shawn nodded to her, but immediately turned his focus onto his partner. "Well, Gus?"

Gus kept his eyes on the others. When they were far enough away so as not to hear him, he began. "Shawn, the necklace, the Powers gun, you know what that means, don't you?"

Shawn looked completely bewildered. Throwing his arms out to his sides in exasperation, "The International Man of Mystery has been unfrozen and is roaming the streets of Santa Barbara?"

"What?" Gus nearly shouted in disbelief and began to walk off. "Shawn, be serious." He didn't stop walking. "That stuff was from the historical society, remember?"

Shawn nodded slowly as he caught up to his friend. "Yes, Gus, I am well aware-"

"Well, then you should also be aware that the gun and necklace are cursed." Shawn looked like he was about to interrupt, but Gus didn't give him the chance. "And, since the mansion is haunted, you know it was Power's ghost that did the killing."


	2. Chapter 2

"And, since the mansion is haunted, you know it was Power's ghost that did the killing," Gus said with an air of authority.

"Gus, don't be Shaggy," Shawn quipped hoping to lighten Gus's mood.

"Shawn, I am way more Fred Jones, than Shaggy," Gus countered.

"True," Shawn agreed, "you do have the impeccable fashion sense of the ascot-wearing Mystery Machine driver." He took a breath and began to walk toward the exit.

Shawn was floored by Gus's words. How could Gus still believe in curses and ghosts? Maybe in the bright light of day, Gus would be more rational. After all, the morgue was no place to talk about ghosts.

Once outside, Shawn put his hand on Gus's shoulder. "Okay, man, first, there are no such things as ghosts." Seeing Gus about to disagree, Shawn spoke quickly. "The historical society has always said that kind of stuff to bring in tourists."

Gus cocked his head to the side. Sure, a haunting was a good way to get attention, but he knew better. Then Shawn continued, "And, Gus, here's the thing, ghosts don't kill people. And that girl in there was murdered. Most likely by her partner in the robbery. We can't let ghosts and curses stop us from solving the real crime here."

* * *

Dean handed Sam the list of missing items as they left the historical society. Skimming over the list, Sam noted the damage done to the mansion didn't equal the items stolen. "Sammy, you're making that face that tells me you're onto something." Dean gave his brother a quick glance, as they climbed into the Impala.

"Yeah, I am. Onto something," Sam clarified. "Not a lot was stolen, for the amount of damage done."

Dean nodded, "Noticed the same thing. What're you thinking?"

Sam looked at Dean, knowing exactly what his brother was doing. "Well, Dean," he sighed condescendingly, "I'm thinking the recent renovations stirred up some spirits." He noticed his brother's smirk. "And, I'm thinking we better do some research about this Jack Powers."

Dean grinned as he slapped Sam on the shoulder. "All right, research. Sounds awesome." Dean hoped getting Sam involved in another case would help him get over Madison's death. "Library? Or is this something you can do on your laptop at the hotel?" Dean also hoped he'd be able to check out the girls on the beach by the hotel.

Sam tilted his head back and forth as he thought. "Better make it the library. One of us can research Powers while the other finds out more about Shawn Spencer."

* * *

"You don't get it, Shawn," Gus complained. "This crime is exactly what happened in 1853. How do you not remember?"

Shawn squinted in confusion, "'Cause I wasn't around in 1853?"

"Shawn," Gus huffed in irritation. How could Shawn be so dense sometimes? "We did a report on Powers in the seventh grade, remember?" Shawn's expression told Gus that he didn't. "And, then, you retyped it and turned it in again in the tenth grade."

Shawn squeezed his eyes shut, nodding as the memory came back to him. "Yeah, okay, right. But I had Cindy Berger retype it."

"Cindy Berger?" Gus blurted in disbelief. "Shawn, that girl was the biggest airhead in our class, how could you let her do your homework?"

"Airhead, maybe -"

"Maybe?"

"Fine. Yes, she was an airhead. But, she was the cutest girl in my keyboarding class and she asked me to help her practice so I let her type my papers. What does this have to do with the case?"

"You would know if you did your own homework, Shawn."

"Gus, really? Now, Gus? You're gonna scold me for not doing my own typing in the tenth grade when we've got a murder to solve?"

Gus made a face and relented. "Fine, Shawn. I'll tell you about Jack Powers. Then, you'll see I'm right."

After stopping at the Jamba Juice and the fish taco hut, Gus began the tale of Jack Powers. "During the Mexican-American War, Jack Powers came to Santa Barbara with the U.S. Army. When the army left, Powers stayed behind, working for the De La Guerra family. He used their horses to commit robbery up and down the El Camino Real."

* * *

Dean nodded as Sam read from the library's computer screen. "Okay, so the guy was a horse thief. Get to why he might be our Casper."

"Well, get this," Sam continued, "in 1853, Powers and his band were forced to leave Santa Barbara. It seems Powers was seeing one of De La Guerra's daughters on the side. When he tried to get her to run off with him, she refused, and he killed her."

"Let me guess," Dean said as he looked up from his computer screen, "strangled her with a necklace." His brother's expression, told Dean he was right.

Shawn nodded, "Right, strangled with the necklace." He put his hand on his forehead. "She was found in the family home, too. I suppose."

"Yes, she was Shawn. And do you know what that family home is today?" Gus inquired.

Shawn rolled his eyes. "The Santa Barbara Historical Society."

Gus jutted out his chin. "You got that right."

"Gus," Shawn whined in frustration, "that doesn't mean it was a ghost that did the killing."

"So, you're saying that someone trying to steal the stuff that Powers rightfully stole, pissed off our ghost, and now he's reenacted the crime that ran him out of town." Dean checked with his brother.

"Yeah, Dean. It makes sense. With the recent renovations, the disturbance of the Powers artifacts, Powers is back."

Dean blew out a breath. "And he's angry. Which explains why so much stuff was destroyed." The brothers rose from the table. "So, where's he buried?" Dean asked as he collected a printout of his Shawn Spencer research.

"Yeah, that's gonna be a problem."

"Problem?" Dean asked, waiting for his brother to elaborate.

"He was killed in Mexico," Sam answered before he wrinkled his face in disgust.

"Cool. Tell me it was TJ." Dean smiled slyly.

"Uh, no, uh, it says here he was killed, dismembered, and fed to a herd of pigs."

Dean sat back down, his face showing repulsion, "Huh."

"Yeah."

"What the hell are we supposed to do with that?" Dean asked.

Sam gathered his research. "He must've left some DNA behind on one of the artifacts at the historical society."

Dean slowly dragged a hand over his face. "So, now we've got to find the guy who stole the stuff so we can stop Powers' spirit."

"Looks, that way," Sam agreed with a sigh.

"That's just - swell."

* * *

Gus couldn't believe his ears. Wasn't Shawn listening? "Nothing? Shawn it means that Powers -," Gus began.

Having reached the limit of his tolerance, Shawn interrupted, "Gus, if you say 'Powers is back' I will lose it."

"Fine, Shawn, I won't," Gus ambled along next to his friend for a moment, thinking Powers' ghost was doing the killing. "Besides, I was going to say that it's a well known fact that renovations, like those the historical society did to the De La Guerra homestead, stir up paranormal activity."

Shawn sighed. There seemed to be no convincing Gus of the non-existence of ghosts. "Okay, Egon, let's say there is a ghost. Since when do ghosts kill people?" Gus opened his mouth, ready to answer when Shawn cut him off. "Movies don't count," Shawn clarified with a point at his friend. Gus's mouth closed.

* * *

"Dean, you sure about this?" Sam asked under his breath as they followed Officer McNabb through the Santa Barbara Police station.

Looking over his shoulder, Dean whispered, "When have I ever steered you wrong?" Seeing his brother actually beginning to form a list in his mind caused Dean to roll his eyes. "Dude, just trust me on this."

"So, did you play basketball, Agent Wyman?" Officer McNabb asked turning to Sam.

"Huh?" Sam leaned closer to the officer.

"I get that a lot. People asking if I played basketball. You know, since I'm tall. And, I see you're tall, so you probably get that, too," McNabb smiled cheerfully bobbing his head.

Dean ducked his head to stop himself from laughing, while Sam could only blink a few times before he replied, "Yeah, actually, I did play some basketball."

McNabb's head kept bobbing, "Cool, well, here we are. Detective Lassiter, Detective O'Hara, these gentlemen are with the FBI. They have some questions about the historical society case."

The detectives stood to meet the agents. Dean gave Juliet a quick, but appreciative once over as he introduced himself and Sam. "Good afternoon, detectives. I'm Agent Watts, this is my partner, Agent Wyman." The brothers held open their badge wallets for the standard identification. "We're here about what happened at the historical society."

"Why is the FBI interested?" Lassiter's eyes were narrow slits as he asked.

Dean gave him a reassuring smile, "Oh, don't worry, Detective, we're not here to step on anyone's toes. Especially," he stopped himself from continuing, but his eyes slid to Juliet's legs briefly and she began to feel a slight blush. "The thing is, my partner is a bit of an expert on Jack Powers." Sam straightened his posture as the two detectives turned their attention to him. "And we're just here to offer our services, an extra set of eyes if you will, completely non-formal."

"You just want to assist us with our the investigation?" Lassiter asked with his eyes narrowed and his voice filled with wariness.

"Well, you see," Sam chipped in, "the Department of the Interior doesn't have the resources to investigate a crime like this. And, the Powers' collection that was housed in the Santa Barbara Historical Society was irreplaceable."

"So, they asked the field office to send us by, not to take over your investigation," Dean clarified hoping to reassure the annoyed looking Lassiter, "just to see if our - his expertise could speed along the process. Get things returned to the historical society as soon as possible."

Before the detectives could perform any further scrutiny of the agents, Chief Vick opened her office door. Her brow rose as she saw Sam and Dean talking to her detectives. "Chief Vick, this is Agent Watts and Agent Wyman with the FBI. They're here to help with the Historical Society case," Juliet responded to the Chief's questioning look.

"I wasn't aware of the Bureau's interest," Chief Vick said with a fake smile and a faint narrowing of her eyes.

Sam took a deep breath, worried that they were busted. Dean thrust out his hand, "Agent Watts, this is my partner, Agent Wyman." Chief Vick shook their hands, and nodded to them.

With a raised brow, she turned to Detective Lassiter and gave a slight nod. "O'Hara, why don't you call Shawn Spencer, and get him in here?" O'Hara nodded. "I'm sure the agents can work with Mr. Spencer. While you two," she looked at her detectives, "interview Ted Gatner. It seems the late Ms. Taylor had a boyfriend." Chief Vick handed a file to Detective Lassiter and whispered, "Don't say I never did anything for you."

* * *

At the sound of his cell ringing, Shawn's face lit up. "Jules! How's my little voice of reason?"

On the other end of the line, Juliet O'Hara made a face, "Voice of reason?" she huffed, wondering, as usual, what he was talking about. "Can you get down to the station, now? Um, the FBI is here to work on the Historical Society case."

Shawn looked at Gus with wide eyes as he repeated, "The FBI?" Gus looked equally surprised. "Sure, Jules, we'll be right there."

Detective O'Hara set the Winchesters up in interrogation room two with a copy of the case file. "Can I get you gentlemen anything else?"

"I'd love a cup of coffee, if you can show me where to go," Dean said as he slid off his suit coat and put it on the back of his chair.

"Oh, sure, I'll get you one. Agent Wyman? Coffee?" Juliet asked pleasantly.

"No, thank you, but I'd take a water if it's not any trouble," Sam gave her a polite smile as he copied his brother's actions.

"No problem at all. I'll be right back."

Dean leaned to watch her walk out of the room. "That is the hottest cop I have seen since," he paused as he thought, "well, ever."

"Dean," Sam gave his brother a scolding look. "You can't hit on the cop when you're a fake FBI agent."

Dean pouted for a moment as he sat down and thought of come back to his brother's new rule. "It's just a little harmless flirting."

"What if she figures out you're not an agent?" Sam kept his voice even, not looking up from the crime scene photos he was spreading out on the table.

"She won't. Besides, we're only in town for a couple of days. I'm not talking life long commitment."

Sam rolled his eyes and kept his comments to himself.

A moment later, Juliet returned with the requested beverages. Dean stood as she entered the room, but she didn't get more than a foot in before Lassiter called her name. Behind him, two uniformed officers were escorting a man into interrogation room one.

Taking the coffee from her, Dean gave her one of his most charming smiles. "Thank you Detective O'Hara."

"My name's Juliet, you can call me Juliet."

"Juliet. That's a beautiful name. It suits you," Dean said with a slight bow of his head. Sam cringed.

Juliet smiled, even though she fought internally to stop herself from coloring at his remark. "Thank you," she answered.

"No, thank you, Juliet." Dean's smile made her feel a bit warm.

"Jules!" Shawn nearly shouted, interrupting the exchange between the girl of his dreams and this other guy. He and Gus had been behind the men walking into the other room. After taking one look at the guy talking to _his_ Juliet, Shawn decided he didn't like him.

"Hey, Shawn," Juliet said cheerfully. "You guys are going to be working in here." She turned to Dean, "Well, I have to get over to the Gatner questioning, but give Shawn a chance. He has, uh, unusual methods, but his insights have helped the department solve some of our toughest cases."

"Okay," Dean replied cautiously as he stepped aside to let Gus and Shawn enter the room. "Thank you, Juliet," he repeated as she turned to leave.

* * *

Shawn definitely didn't like the way Juliet nearly blushed when the agent thanked her. He and Gus followed Dean into the room. "Thanks for meeting with us," Dean began. "I'm Agent Watts This is my partner, Agent Wyman." Sam rose as he was introduced, surprising the newcomers with his height.

Shawn quickly assessed the two men in front of him as he shook their hands. "Hello, I'm Shawn Spencer. This is my partner Avery Brooks." Dean's brows rose at the name, but Gus threw a disapproving look at Shawn.

Sam wrinkled his face, "Sorry, I thought your partner's name was Burton Guster."

"It is. I am Burton Guster," Gus shook Sam's hand then Dean's. "Most people call me, Gus."

"Okay, Gus, Mr. Urich, why don't you guys sit down and we can get started," Dean said barely hiding his smirk as he nodded to the empty chairs. Sam looked confused as did Gus.

However, an impressed Shawn looked at Dean with a quirked brow, touché.

Sam shook his head as if to clear that last bit of conversation out of it. "Mr. Spencer," he said, looking briefly at his brother to reinforce the name, "you have quite an impressive record of solving cases for the SBPD. The McCallum kidnapping, the Jackson Hale murder, this is quite a collection of work."

"Thank you, Agent Wyman. It's always nice to meet a fan." Shawn leaned back in his chair. Gus wished he'd remembered his antacids.

A small furrow appeared between Sam's brows as he continued. "When did you first notice your psychic abilities? It appears you've only worked with the police for about a year."

Shawn paused, studying Sam before he answered, "I've had abilities my whole life. But, they've become sharper in the past year or two."

"How does your ability manifest? Do you have headaches? Is it controllable?" Sam leaned forward expectantly.

Shawn glanced at the other agent before answering. "Well, I can't exactly control it. For example, I can tell you that both you and Agent Watts would rather work in the field than in a suit behind a desk." Shawn closed his eyes, put his middle finger on his temple and continued, "I also sense a recent injury to Agent Watts," Shawn peeked through barely open lids to see the agents exchange looks. "I'm sure he knows it wasn't your fault Agent Wyman." Sam blinked in surprise at Shawn's comment. Shawn dropped his hand abruptly and leaned back in his chair. "As to headaches, yes, I get them occasionally, but it's the price of my gift."

Gus tried not to look nervous as Shawn answered the agent's questions, but he failed miserably.

"What about your parents? Do either of them have psychic abilities?" Sam asked.

Much to the brothers' surprise, Gus began to chuckle, then Shawn did as well. To the odd looks they were getting from the agents, Gus tired to stop. "I'm sorry. It's just the thought of Shawn's dad as a psychic."

Shawn shook his head as he brought his laughter under control, "Neither of my parents are psychic."

"They are both alive, though, right?" Sam asked as he looked at the printout from the library.

Feeling vaguely uncomfortable, Shawn answered, "Yes, why?"

"Uh, just checking," Sam replied, unsure how to explain his reason for prying, he quickly looked down at the papers before him.

Dean rubbed his fingers over his mouth as he thought. After a second, he pushed the crime scene photos in front of Shawn. "Take a look at these. Do you sense anything? What can you tell us about Ms. Taylor's accomplice? Was it her boyfriend? Chief Vick just had him brought in for questioning."

Shawn took a minute to study the photos Dean slid across the table. As he did, Dean unbuttoned his shirt sleeves, and rolled up the cuffs. Sam rose from his seat and tossed his empty water cup into the trash. After a quick perusal of the pictures, Shawn was reminded of something he had seen at the crime scene. He looked at Sam, then at Gus.

Suddenly, in a very loud voice Shawn said, "I see a man. He's at the back door of the Historical Society."

Sam quickly sat at the table and began to write, "What else do you see?"

Now, speaking in a falsetto Shawn said, "No, don't come any closer!" He rose from his chair, stepped back against the wall, and wailed in the same high voice, "I won't do it, I tell you." Shawn put his hands on his throat and pretended to choke, before dramatically collapsing on the floor.

Sam, Dean, and Gus bolted from their seats. "Shawn!" Gus yelled as he knelt by his partner.

"Mr. Spencer, are you alright?" Sam asked exchanging concerned looks with Dean.

"Yes, yes," Shawn coughed and sputtered as he accepted Gus's help to stand.

"Did you see what the attacker looked like?" Sam inquired as everyone returned to their seats.

Shawn briefly closed his eyes, "He had a beard. Dark hair, maybe red, definitely some red tones in it. Average height."

"What about his eyes?" Dean asked "Or did you see any distinguishing features?"

"Yes, yes, I did, Agent Watts," Shawn replied looking directly at Dean. "He had a scar on his cheek." Shawn pointed to his own face. "It stopped right at his beard. His eyes were brown. No, sorry, they were lighter, a blue maybe green." He noticed Sam's eyes boring holes into Dean as he spoke. "I'm also getting a sense of horses."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back in his chair. Sam, on the other hand, was nearly bouncing with excitement in his. "Horses?"

Shawn rose. "Yes, I know that sounds odd, but I definitely sense horses." He jerked his head at Gus. "Now, I'm sorry gentlemen, but this session has really taken it's toll and I need rest."

Gus made a face at him but stood up to follow Shawn's lead. "This happens. He just needs to lay down for a minute. Maybe get something to eat."

"Sure, uh, no problem. Thank you, Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster," Sam said, as he led them to the door and shook their hands.

Once the door was shut, Sam turned to his brother excitedly, "Well? What did you think of that?"

Dean slowly shook his head. "Well, first, if your visions made you act like that, I'd have to shoot you." Sam pursed his lips in annoyance, which Dean ignored. "Next, as unbelievable as it may seem, Mr. Spencer accurately described our ghost, Jack Powers." He held up a page of the library printout showing an old wanted poster of Jack Powers.

* * *

As they left the Santa Barbara police department, Gus's nerves got the better of him. "Shawn, what are you doing?" Gus hissed quietly. "I'm pretty sure it's against the law to lie to the FBI."

Shawn rolled his head, not just his eyes. "Yeah, well, I'm sure it's against the law to imitate the Rolling Stones."

Gus looked at his friend as if he were insane. "No, it's not, Shawn. Lots of people do it. Don't you remember the cover band at the boardwalk last month? And there's got to be some in Vegas," Gus countered. "But what's that got to do with this?"

Shawn stopped walking to properly answer Gus. "First, it's illegal to lie to the FBI if it hinders their investigation."

"Which you just did."

"Right, which would be a problem it those guys were FBI. Wyman and Watts. I knew I knew those names!" Shawn continued to lead Gus through the parking lot.

"What chu talkin' 'bout, Shawn?"

"Nice," Shawn paused, "nice, Gary Coleman reference." Gus nodded at the acknowledgement. "Wyman and Watts? The bassist and drummer for the Stones. Jagger and Richards would have been too obvious."

"So, you're saying those guys aren't the FBI."

"No, Gus, they're not. They just might be the other robbers slash murderers."

Gus mulled that over as they climbed into his car. "Then, why are they trying to help the police with the investigation?"

"I don't know, Gus. I haven't figured that out, yet." Shawn slumped back in his seat. "I do know that the accomplice was crazy tall like the Wyman guy."

"What are we doing, Shawn? We should go back in there and tell Juliet and Lassiter."

"Not yet, Gus. We have no proof. Instead, we are going to follow the "agents"," Shawn said using finger quotes. "I think they are going to lead us straight to the stolen Powers artifacts."


	3. Chapter 3

Once again, takes place immediately following the events in chapter 2.

Inside the Santa Barbara Police Office...

"So, Juliet, how's it going in there?" Dean asked Detective O'Hara as she was about to re-enter interrogation room one.

Juliet sighed tiredly, "Well, he's spilling his guts, but so far none of it has to do with our case." Dean nodded. "How was your meeting with Shawn?"

Dean tilted his head to the side. "Is he always so—animated?"

"Animated?" Juliet grinned. "I guess you could say that. Was he helpful?"

"He gave us a description of a guy. My partner is giving it to some officer to have it typed up for you," Dean replied.

Juliet inclined her head to the door. "Did it match our guy?" She held open the door for Dean to peek through.

Dean shook his head after taking a look at Gatner. "No, not at all. Sorry."

Juliet shrugged. "Well, Gatner seems to know something so I better get back in there." Then she quickly turned back to him. "I'll see you later, right?"

Dean smiled. "I hope so."

Dean met a very perturbed looking Sam in the Impala. "What is it, Sam?"

"That psychic, Spencer, do you think he's a real psychic and maybe not one of Yellow Eyes' special kids?" Sam asked sincerely.

"I don't know." Dean shrugged as he started the engine. "I mean, don't you usually sense something from the people Yellow Eyes has 'touched'?"

Sam shook his head. "No, well, yeah, sometimes, but I didn't sense Ava. I didn't sense Andy, either."

Dean sighed, "Well, he's not exactly the right age and he said he's had his 'gift' his whole life. Maybe he's like Missouri."

"Yeah, maybe," Sam agreed. "At least he gave us something to work with. We know it was Powers' ghost that killed that girl."

Dean nodded. "Right, now onto the hard part. Killing a ghost with no remains."

Sam said, "I've been thinking about that, too. I think we need to get back to the Historical Society. Maybe when Powers' ghost shows up, we can bind him to something. Then, get rid of him."

"Okay, but first, we eat," Dean said pulling into an In and Out Burger.

"Ooh! In and Out Burger!" Shawn nearly squealed as he and Gus watched the Impala pull into the lot. "I am beginning to like these guys."

"Shawn!"

"What? I'm hungry. Hit the drive through, while we wait for them," Shawn suggested strongly, nearly grabbing the wheel from Gus's hands.

Gus pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. "All right, Shawn." He drove around the small building. "But you're buying."

Shawn nodded as he reached for his wallet. "I'd love to." He tore open the Velcro on the nylon relic and found nothing resembling money. "Uh, Gus—"

Gus, who was beginning to think that if he rolled his eyes one more time it may cause injury, sighed heavily. "Yeah, Shawn, I got it."

All of Shawn's suspicions about the agents seemed to be confirmed when he watched them pull into the lot of the Forty Winks Motel. When Gus finally parked the Echo in the motel's lot, Shawn was nearly bursting with confidence. "There you have it, Gus. Proof that they are not FBI."

Gus looked at Shawn, then back at the two men walking into a motel room, and wondered for the millionth time what his friend saw that he didn't. "Okay, Shawn. Do we call Juliet now?"

"Not yet," Shawn said, knowing he didn't have anything concrete enough to convince Juliet that these two were not FBI. "But, come on, Gus. Since when do FBI agents drive cars like that and stay in motels like this?"

Gus raised a brow and answered with a small shrug.

"The FBI would stay at a Howard Johnson's, the Super Eight, maybe the Comfort Suites, not a 'no-tell motel' just off the expressway. And, they drive cars made this century, not," Shawn pointed to the Impala, "relics only my dad would appreciate."

Gus made a face. "I don't know, Shawn. An old car and a bad motel don't necessarily make them criminals."

"Maybe not," Shawn conceded, "but not FBI, either."

"Okay, Shawn, not FBI, I'll give you that. But why would they offer to help Lassiter?" Gus may have accepted Shawn's proof that the men were not FBI, but criminals don't just offer to help police.

Shawn leaned back in his seat as he thought.

Several hours passed. The sunny Santa Barbara day had turned into a chilly Santa Barbara night. Inside the room at the Forty Winks Motel, the Winchesters had changed, rested, and researched. Well, to be honest, Sam researched, Dean cleaned his gun and watched TV. Inside the tiny blue Toyota Echo, Shawn and Gus slept.

When it was nearly one in the morning, the Winchesters decided it was time to put the Powers spirit down for good.

"Sam, this had better work. I don't need to be getting this ghost any angrier," Dean said as he shut the Impala's trunk.

"Well, it's all we've got," Sam complained as he got in his seat. "Short of hunting down a herd of pigs in Mexico."

Dean shuddered. "Right. So, here's hoping Spencer was sensing Powers' ghost, and not just being some sort of freak."

Sam faced his brother. "Because all psychics are 'freaks'?"

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed. Research must have made his brother cranky. "Yeah, all psychics are freaks and you are their giant freaky king." Seeing that his younger brother didn't like his joke, Dean shook his head. "Dude, I only meant that any psychic that rolls on the ground and starts talking like a girl is a freak. Not you. Now get over yourself, already. We've got work to do."

Inside the blue Toyota Echo, Gus was quite uncomfortable. Drowsily, he wondered why he couldn't stretch out his legs completely. Coming to the slow realization that he was sleeping in his car, Gus opened his eyes to get his bearings. His gaze finally fell upon a black car leaving the motel parking lot. Somewhere in his brain, Gus remembered that the car was important. He looked at the passenger seat and found his best friend sound asleep. Gus gently shook Shawn's shoulder. "Shawn, get up. Those FBI guys are leaving."

"Hm? Gus, it's too early to sneak out," Shawn mumbled.

Gus started his car. "Shawn, come on, man, wake up."

Shawn yawned, stretched, and opened his eyes. "Gus? What's going on?" Shawn asked as he rubbed a hand over his face.

"The FBI guys, they just left," Gus informed him as he pulled into what he felt was a safe following distance behind the Impala. "And you fell asleep."

Shawn shot an insulted look at Gus. "I did not. I was trying to remember all the words to 'Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go' and—"

"And you suddenly felt like drooling on your shoulder? You fell asleep, Shawn."

"Fine," Shawn sulked; obviously it was impossible to argue the point the moment. "I couldn't have been asleep for long. What time is it?"

"Nearly one. Where are these guys going?"

"I don't—" Shawn paused as he looked around. "Are they going back to the Historical Society?"

"Maybe we should call Juliet now," Gus suggested as he watched the Impala pull into the back parking lot of the Historical Society.

"And tell her what, Gus? That we followed a couple guys across town? No." Shawn shook his head. "Let's see what our rock stars are up to, then we call Jules." He pointed to a small drive where Gus could park the Echo and not be seen from the Impala.

Santa Barbara did not have the funds to immediately restore or repair the damage the previous break in had done to the Historical Society. Instead, a flimsy plywood board covered the broken door, making it extremely easy for the Winchesters to let themselves in. Once they entered, Shawn and Gus crept across the lot and followed, silently letting themselves in the same door.

Inside the room that housed the Powers collection, Sam set out a cloth and some candles. Dean kept watch until a sound caught his attention. "Sam, did you hear something?" he asked quietly, walking back toward the entry door of the room.

Sam held still for a moment, listening. "I don't hear anything."

In the hall, just outside the room, Shawn and Gus plastered themselves against the wall and stopped breathing. Dean listened for a moment, then pulled his EMF detector from his pocket. It began making noise the moment it was switched on. Both Winchesters' eyes became huge at the amount of activity the meter was detecting. "Hurry up," Dean said as he pulled his gun from his waistband.

Shawn and Gus crept to the entryway once Dean had moved back into the room. The strange noise captured Gus's attention. His expression was one of shock as he recognized the device in Dean's hand. Grabbing Shawn's arm, he whispered excitedly, "Shawn, that's an EMF detector."

"Gus, language, please."

Gus ignored him and continued, "EMF stands for electromagnetic field."

Shawn looked confused. "They're looking for magnets?"

Gus shook his head at Shawn's ignorance. "No, Shawn. It's a tool used to detect ghosts. So, unless that guy is Mulder, they are not the FBI," Gus said as he crept closer to the door. "They're ghost hunters, like those guys on TV."

Shawn huffed, thankful he hadn't called Jules or Lassiter when these guys first broke in. "Gus, for the last time, there's no such thing—" A loud crashing noise and a shout of "Sam!" stopped Shawn from continuing.

Sam had been tossed into a display case and was now extricating himself from the shards of glass. Dean rushed to his brother's aide. "You okay? I didn't even see anything," Dean explained as he moved a section of shelving off his brother.

"Yeah, I'm okay. But I lost the candles," Sam answered, dusting himself off and finally standing up.

Dean pulled an extra flashlight from his pocket and handed it to his brother. "Here, be careful, man, that's a lot of glass and that thing came out of nowhere."

Taking the flashlight, Sam nodded. "We better hurry. Gather as much of Powers' stuff as you can. See if you can find something iron."

Neither Dean nor Sam could begin their search as the spirit chose that moment to materialize.

Gus ignored Shawn and his skeptic attitude and made his way into the room. The two guys they had been following were on the far side of the large ballroom. The entire room had been dedicated to the De La Guerra family with a small section housing the Powers collection. From his current vantage point, Gus could see that the Powers collection was nearly destroyed.

"Gus," Shawn whispered when he caught up with his friend. He looked at Gus to see Gus's mouth fall open and his eyes become platters. Shawn turned to see what had caused this reaction, only to have his eyes become saucers, as well. He clutched at Gus's arm. "Guh- bah," he gasped, pointing at the specter moving dangerously close to the guys at the far side of the room.

The "Guh- bah," was soon followed by a series of "Hah, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba," spoken in a shocked, harsh, high whisper.

Hearing the frightened sounds coming across the room, Dean turned to see an image of a very large man, dressed in black. Before he or Sam could get tossed again, Dean shot the ghost with a salt round.

Gus and Shawn exchanged looks as the ghost dissipated. Then, screaming in a pitch to rival thirteen-year-old girls, they ran out of the building.

"Shit, Sam. It's not Powers. It's some giant who dresses like Johnny Cash," Dean said waiting for the next appearance.

"Who was screaming?" Sam asked. "I thought the place was supposed to be empty at night."

"I think it was the psychic and his buddy." Dean pointed to the door. "Let's get out of here. Go after them, before they go calling the cops."

Shawn and Gus ran like never before in their lives. When he was just a few yards from his Echo, Gus slowed to a stop. Shawn, on the other hand, ran to the passenger door and was jumping frantically as he waited for Gus. "Gus! Come on! What are you waiting for?" Shawn pleaded.

"I think we should go back. Those guys might need our help," Gus replied shakily.

"Help?" Shawn walked back to his friend. "Look, Gus, I don't know what that was in there," he held up his hand to stop Gus from interrupting, "okay, it might have been a ghost. Doesn't matter. That guy, Watts, Mulder, whoever-the-hell he is, shot at it—with a gun. A gun, Gus." He began to pull on Gus's arm attempting to get his friend to the car. "They might need help, but not the kind of help we can give them. My mom, the shrink, maybe. Me, the fake psychic, uh-uh."

Before the Winchesters could follow Shawn and Gus, the ghost of the man in black reappeared. This time, it stripped the gun from Dean's hand. Then, in a blink, it was in front of Dean, lifting him off the ground with an icy hand around Dean's neck. "Sam," Dean gasped, "a little help."

Sam searched frantically for Dean's gun, but his eyes settled on an old iron bed warmer. Swinging it like a baseball bat, Sam sliced through the ghost holding his brother, causing the spirit to dematerialize.

With his hand massaging his throat, Dean managed to say, "Thanks."

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Let's get out of here."

Gus made a face that Shawn recognized as the one Gus makes when he's seriously considering an idea. Shawn knew he had to say something more to convince his friend to leave. "Gus, those guys on TV, the ghost hunting plumbers, they ever shoot at a ghost?"

"No. I've never seen Jay and Grant use guns."

"Right, 'cause you know who shoots guns at ghosts? Crazy people." Shawn could see that Gus was beginning to lean his way. "Now is the time for you to be Shaggy, I'll be Scooby, and let's get the hell out of here." Shawn pulled on Gus's sleeve, and this time, Gus followed him.

Sam and Dean burst through the doors just in time to see the Echo's taillights. "Great. Missed 'em," Dean sighed, digging the keys from his pocket.

Sam threw the bag in the Impala's trunk. "Well, I could try to call them," Sam suggested, once he was in his seat.

"And say what?" Dean asked and shook his head. "Let's just switch hotels and hope Abbot and Costello don't tell the cops we're not feds."

Sam's brows furrowed. "Why do you think they were there? You think he was gonna do a séance?"

"I don't know, man," Dean thought a moment. "I just hope we can figure out who this ghost is and get rid of him before anyone else gets hurt."

The following morning came much too early for Shawn. He hadn't been able to get much sleep; thoughts of what he had witnessed at the Historical Society kept replaying in his mind. By ten the following morning, Shawn dragged himself into the Psych office.

Gus, on the other hand, was as chipper as could be. He'd taken a Nappien when he got home. All memories of the night before, he chalked up to side effects of the sleep aid. Until, that is, he arrived at the Psych office and found a beautiful woman sitting behind the desk. "Hello," he said with raised brows and a smooth, deep voice. "I'm John Slade."

She looked up from her nail filing and greeted him with a bored stare before promptly returning to her nails. Gus shrugged and was about to say more when Shawn called him from the other room.

"Shawn, who is that?" Gus asked shutting the door behind him.

"Inga, the new receptionist. The agency sent her over," Shawn replied. "Gus, we have more important things to discuss."

Gus was looking through the window to the outer office. "More important than a beautiful woman, Shawn?" Gus asked, straightening his shoulders and adjusting his shirt. "The temp agency sent her over?"

Shawn shook his head quickly, "No, the modeling agency. I figured if I was hiring a receptionist, I'd hire one who was nice to look at."

Without turning from the window, Gus asked, "Does she do filing?"

"Other than her nails? I don't know."

"Take calls?"

"From her agent, yes. For us, maybe. Look, Gus, about last night, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think you were right about the ghost thing. I'm not sure what those guys were doing there, but—"

"Shawn, what are you talking about?" Gus had finally turned away from the window and was now wearing a very concerned expression as he faced his friend.

"Last night. The Historical Society. The FBI guys. Their guns. The ghost. Does any of this ring a bell, Gus?" Shawn's frustration bled into his words.

Gus stumbled into a chair. "That was real? I thought all of it was Nappien induced false memories." Gus began to rock back and forth in the chair, desperately trying to control his breathing.

Shawn squeezed his eyes shut then dragged a hand over his face. "Gus," he sighed, "buddy," Shawn paused as a thought suddenly struck him. "Once you've got your breathing under control, we'll leave for the historical society."

Once again donning their FBI suits, Sam and Dean arrived at the historical society just after Detectives Lassiter and O'Hara. "Dean, this is a monumentally bad idea. If Spencer shows up, he's going to tell them we're not FBI," Sam complained in a strident whisper.

"I'll worry about Miss Cleo when he arrives. Right now, we have no other choice. We need to get back inside to figure out who this ghost is," Dean answered in his own harsh whisper.

The brothers stopped bickering as they approached Officer McNabb. "Morning, officer, what happened?" Dean asked attempting to look both concerned and innocent.

Officer McNabb turned and smiled a greeting at Dean. "A city worker was attacked when he was trying to repair the door. He said there was another break in. He's with Detective O'Hara, now."

With a pat on the officer's shoulder, Dean thanked him and moved to where Juliet was sitting, talking to a man with an ice pack on his head. "Good morning, Detective O'Hara, it's good to see you again," he said with a warm smile.

Returning his smile, Juliet rose, "You, too, Agent Watts, Agent Wyman." She turned to the man who had been sitting next to her. "This is Glenn Campbell," she waved away their amused looks at the familiar name. "He was here to make repairs to the door, when he was attacked. Mr. Campbell, why don't you tell the agents what you told me."

The man looked up at Sam and Dean, then sighed heavily, already bored with having to retell his tale. "All right. I got here at eight this morning to start on that door there." He pointed to the back door. "I set up my gear, but I needed juice for my saw. So, I goes inside and I was only in there like a minute, when someone cracked me over the head."

Sam looked alarmed. "Did you see who hit you?"

Glenn shook his head, "No. Like I told the lady here, all I saw was a dark shadow. When I come to, I see that the place looks even more messed up than it did yesterday. That's when I called the police."

"Thank you, Mr. Campbell," Sam said with a nod.

Suddenly, Detective Lassiter rushed through the door. After looking around he barked, "Hey, we need an EMT in here, stat." He pointed to the technician who was packing up a kit after having cared for Mr. Campbell. Lassiter turned to Juliet and the Winchesters. "Mrs. DuMont fainted." Seeing Sam he said, "Good, Agent Wyman, you're here. Maybe you can help determine if more of the Powers items have been stolen. Mr. Campbell most likely interrupted another robbery." Lassiter turned on his heel and headed back inside the Historical Society. With a quick glance at Dean, Sam followed Lassiter inside.

Shawn and Gus arrived just as Mrs. DuMont was being loaded into the ambulance. They jogged up to Juliet, who was still talking to Dean. Shawn shot a frowning look at Dean then nodded, "Mulder, Jules, what happened?" He noticed Dean's lip quirk at the name.

Being accustomed to Shawn's odd expressions, Juliet ignored that part of Shawn's greeting and answered him. "City worker, Glenn Campbell, was attacked as he was working and Mrs. DuMont collapsed just a few minutes ago."

Shawn rested his steepled fingers on his lips for a moment. "I have two questions, Jules. When did Mr. Campbell quit his job as a lineman for the county? And was he wearing rhinestones at the time of the attack?"

Jules blew out an annoyed breath, but Dean had to look down and press his lips together to stop himself from laughing. "Shawn, please be serious. This is the second break-in in as many days. Innocent people are getting hurt," Juliet scolded.

"Juliet, may I ask when the break-in happened?" Gus asked as he watched Shawn study the door.

"Not sure yet, Gus. But, Mr. Campbell surprised the intruder around eight this morning."

Gus looked surprised at the information. "This morning?" he repeated looking at Dean.

"That's right, Mr. Guster, this morning," Dean replied. "Why don't you and Haley Joel come inside with us and we'll see what's going on."

Though Gus swallowed and looked very nervous, Shawn took a fleeting look at Dean, then nodded. Letting Juliet lead Shawn into the building, Gus touched Dean's elbow. "You and your partner got this if something's in there, right?"

Dean looked amused but he placed a hand on Gus's shoulder and answered, "Yeah, Luther, we got this." Gus blew out a breath of relief and followed Dean.

Inside the Historical Society, Sam studied the remains of the display case he had destroyed the night before. Unfortunately, he had no idea whether anything from the Powers collection was missing. Lassiter stood over Sam with his hands on his hips. "Well? Is more of the collection missing?"

Sam rubbed his chin. "It's hard to say with all this damage, but I think everything is here."

Lassiter squinted around the room. "Then what was the guy after?"

"I have no clue. What else is of value does the Historical Society have on display?" Sam asked as he stood.

Lassiter turned around. "Everything here has been here for ages. The only new display is the Powers collection." He paused, "Though for the life of me I don't know why Mrs. DuMont and the Society wanted to display things from that criminal's life. Especially here, in the De La Guerra home." The detective shifted his shoulders. "Doesn't seem right, you know?"

But, Sam didn't know. He barely knew anything about Powers or the De La Guerra family. In order to keep his cover, Sam decided to agree. "No, doesn't seem right at all."

"No, no it doesn't, Scully. I, too, preferred you much more as a woman. Even remaining a red head would have been nice." Shawn's comment brought an irritated scowl to Sam's face. Dean had to cover his mouth to stifle his laugh.

"Spencer, treat the agents with some respect, if you wouldn't mind," Lassiter growled.

"Oh, Lassie, I only really mind the lack of the flowing red locks." Shawn turned suddenly to Dean, pleased to see the 'agent' fighting a grin. "They were more of an auburn, though, weren't they?"

Dean coughed a laugh, but sobered quickly at the sight of his brother's annoyed frown. After clearing his throat, Dean asked. "So, is anything missing?"

"Not that we can tell," Lassiter answered abruptly. "However, someone did do significant damage to the Powers display. Agent Wyman and I were discussing why the Powers display shouldn't even be here."

Dean's brows shot up at that. "Why is that?"

Lassiter turned to Sam to defer to the other's expertise, only to have Gus answer. "It's a well known part of Santa Barbara History that the De La Guerra family hated Jack Powers. You know, for having murdered their daughter."

Sam and Dean looked at each other as the light bulbs began to go off in their heads. Lassiter tilted his head toward the De La Guerra family portrait. "Look at them. What would make a horse thief think Teresa De La Guerra would want to run off with him? The De La Guerra family was the wealthiest family in Santa Barbara."

Lassiter and Juliet looked at the painting and saw one of Santa Barbara's founding families. Gus and the Winchesters looked at the family portrait and recognized the man in black. Shawn looked at the family portrait and solved two murder cases. One from the day before and one from 1853.

**Nappien is the sleep aid Homer Simpson used in the episode "Crook and Ladder".

Jason and Grant are from ScyFy's the Ghosthunters.


	4. Chapter 4

Still inside the Historical Society...

Sam and Dean looked at each other and slowly backed away from the group. LearningSTill the true identity of the ghost was the break they'd been looking for. Now, unfortunately, they realized there was a lot more to the Powers - De La Guerra family drama.

Not caring whether they were noticed by the others in the group, Sam and Dean began to look around the room. Sam tilted his head to signify a brick wall on the far side of the room. Dean nodded and walked over to examine the exposed brick.

Crouching down to rub a hand over the bricks, Dean discovered some had fresh mortar. But near the floor, Dean found an inscription that confirmed his fears. He couldn't make out all the words, but the markings were clear enough. Someone had chiseled symbols of Santeria into the bricks.

The way Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth told Sam that his brother had found proof that they were in more danger than just an angry ghost.

Sam looked around the room, and now that he was looking for them, the signs of Santeria were everywhere. He blew out a breath and wondered how he had missed them previously.

Across the room from them, Gus nervously watched every move the 'agents' made. Something was definitely up with those guys, they were acting worried. If there was one thing Gus knew for certain, it was that if those two were worried, he should be terrified. He turned to his best friend, "Shawn, I think we should get out of here. Let the police do their thing."

Regrettably at that moment, Shawn put his fingers to his temples. "Oh my, the spirits are anxious." Sam and Dean exchanged looks and hurriedly crossed the room.

"No, no they're not, Shawn," Gus corrected.

"Yes," Shawn smirked at his friend. "Yes, they are, Gus."

"Then maybe it's because they want us to leave, Shawn," Gus interrupted, hoping Shawn would get the hint.

Shawn gave Gus a look of exasperation, and turned to the detectives. "Tell me, Lassie, did Ms. Taylor's boyfriend tell you how they met? I'm getting a sense of a club."

Lassiter snorted, "Yeah, if you can call rehab a club. They met at a narcotics anonymous meeting."

Shawn had to fight the urge to smile. He knew he had recognized that chip hanging from the boyfriend's chain. He took out his wallet and pretended it was trying to fly away from him. "I'm sensing the couple had money troubles."

Juliet was astonished. "Yeah, Shawn. Gatner said he was trying to start a DJ business but that no one was willing to take a chance on a former drug dealer."

"In fact, that was his alibi for the night of the break in," Lassiter continued. "He was trying to get a job at some bar."

Juliet looked around and shivered. "Wow, did the a. c. just kick in?" She rubbed her arms. "It sure got cold in here."

Dean nudged Gus and subtly tilted his head towards the exit. Gus nodded to show he understood.

"You're right, Juliet. Maybe that guy from the city can fix it. Let's go ask him," Gus suggested, gently taking hold of Juliet's arm in order to escort her from the building.

Juliet gave Gus a strange look, but then Shawn spoke up. "Yeah, I'm getting incredibly strong vibes that Mr. Campbell did not tell us everything he knows." He had his right hand to his temple, again.

As Lassiter began to walk towards the door, he turned to Shawn. "Are you saying he knows more about this morning's break in?"

"Yes, he knows about the earlier break in, too." Shawn turned to the Winchesters. "Tell me, Agent Watts, did Glenn Campbell ever cover 'Folsum Prison Blues'?"

Dean looked perplexed at the sudden music trivia query. "Uh, I don't know. I don't think so." He quickened his step, hoping to usher everyone from the room. "Why?"

"Because I have a feeling he's about to," Shawn replied feeling quite proud of himself.

Sam lagged behind the others. Once everyone was out the door, Sam poured a salt line on the threshold. He breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door before De La Guerra's spirit was able to attack.

* * *

In the back parking lot, Glenn Campbell was packing his tools hoping to look inconspicuous. He anxiously waited for everyone to leave the building. He was loading the saw horses when Detective Lassiter spotted him. "Mr. Campbell, could we have a word?"

Campbell spoke over his shoulder. "Sure, what do you need?"

"We'd like to ask you a few more questions about the break in," Juliet began.

"Whatever I can do to help," Campbell replied in a tremulous voice.

"I'd like to start with your whereabouts the night of the original break in," Lassiter said opening his coat for access to his gun if it became necessary.

Suddenly, Campbell picked up his open toolbox from the back of his truck and tossed it at the detectives, hitting Lassiter with the metal box and Juliet with some of the tools that flew out of it. Campbell turned to his left and began to run. He made it two steps until he hit the immovable object known as Sam Winchester's chest. Dean had come up behind the man, drew his gun, and aimed it at the man's back.

"Dude, really?" Shawn asked as he helped Juliet to her feet. "There are six of us here." He twirled his hand around. "You thought you could just run away?"

Sam held Campbell while Lassiter cuffed him. Shawn, not wanting to go without his dramatic summation, closed his eyes, "I see a club. A very special club." He opened his eyes and looked into Campbell's eyes. "And some seriously misplaced trust."

Campbell's mouth fell open in shock. "How'd -?"

"Are we talking the narcotics anonymous 'club'?" Juliet asked.

Shawn nodded. "Mr. Campbell was poor Ms. Taylor's sponsor. At the meetings, he learned all about her and her boyfriend. He learned about Gatner's failed business attempts, how desperate the young couple's financial situation was. When he found out she was an ex-con, ex-burglar, he thought he'd offer her a chance at a partnership. Probably told her how it was her record that was keeping Gatner from getting his business started."

Gus frowned at the man. "Shame on you. Taking advantage of that girl's trust in you."

Dean and Sam each raised a brow and looked at Gus then at each other.

Shawn nodded. "Gus, couldn't have said it better myself." He turned back to Campbell, "During the renovation work you did here, you discovered plenty of valuables that would be easily sold without being traced to the Historical Society."

"Then you killed your accomplice so no one would know it was you," Lassiter added. "Not bad, Spencer."

"Wait," Sam spoke up, "if that's all true, then why'd he come back? Why was he fixing the door?"

Everyone looked from Shawn to Campbell and back. Much to Shawn's relief, Campbell decided to answer. "I came back to return the stuff I stole!"

The two police officers chuckled. "Sure you did," Lassiter taunted. "Probably trying to recover evidence you left behind."

Sam and Dean looked toward the man's truck hoping to find the missing items. Without caring about police protocol, they began to search through items in the truck bed. Dean opened the man's playmate cooler and using a rag, Dean retrieved a gun. The Winchesters were barely able to suppress their grins. However, their relief was short lived.

"I can't believe it. He's still carrying the stolen property," Juliet exclaimed, peering between the brothers and smiling. "Carlton, we're gonna need some evidence bags." Juliet snapped on some latex gloves.

Dean looked at Sam over her head and mouthed, "Carlton?" Sam shrugged.

Juliet moved the cooler closer. "I think I found the murder weapon," she said pulling a gold chain from the cooler. "Shawn? Do you get anything from this?"

Shawn put his hand around his neck. "Agh, cha, cka," he gasped. Clearing his throat, he said with a smile, "Yeah, Jules that would be the murder weapon. Although, I'm sure your forensic guys can tell you the same thing."

Sam and Dean recognized a charm on the chain but they could only stand by helplessly as all of the stolen artifacts were 'recovered' by the police.

"I didn't do it!" Campbell shouted. "I didn't kill Loni." He looked at the faces of his captors. "The place really is haunted! I ain't lying!" He turned to Shawn and pleaded. "Come on, psychic guy, tell them. Tell them the ghost did it."

Shawn, Gus and the Winchesters exchanged nervous glances. Then, Shawn started laughing. Gus and the others took their cue from him and began to chuckle also. "Ghosts? Don't be silly." He and Gus nudged each other and laughed, "Ghosts."

Shawn suddenly sobered. "The spirits here are benevolent and wouldn't hurt a fly. Let alone kill a girl." Shawn turned to Lassiter, "Book 'em, Lassie!"

* * *

Just over an hour later, Dean was pacing in the Winchester's hotel room and Sam was researching like mad on his laptop. "I've checked every cemetery in Santa Barbara. The De La Guerra family isn't in any of them." Sam closed his laptop with a frustrated sigh. "I got nothing."

Dean rolled his eyes. "That's great. What the hell are we supposed to do now?" He sat heavily on the bed. "We've got at least one ghost that is murdering people and no way of stopping it?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair as he thought. Then he squinted at his brother. "Maybe we should talk to Guster."

Dean looked shocked. "Guster?"

"Well, he seemed to be the Powers - De La Guerra family expert I was pretending to be."

Dean mulled that over for a moment then he stood, took Shawn's card from the table and pulled out his keys. "All right, let's go."

Shawn and Gus sat at their chairs, watching Inga, and eating the pineapple upside down cake Mrs. DuMont had delivered. "Shawn, you've done some irresponsible things with my money, but Inga is not one of them." The partners bumped fists.

"I couldn't agree more. More cake?" Shawn asked as he rose to cut himself another piece.

"Don't mind if I do, Shawn," Gus held his plate out to Shawn only to be rudely ignored. Shawn gaped towards the outer office. "Shawn?" Gus turned to find the Winchesters staring at Inga. Well, if Gus were to classify the looks, Sam was staring, what Dean was doing was more like leering. "Shawn," Gus hissed, "what are they doing here?"

Shawn looked over at Gus. "Besides hitting on our Inga?" At the sound of Inga's lilting giggle, both Shawn and Gus turned to the window. "Gus, she giggled." Shawn looked in shock from the site of Dean and Inga to Gus. "That guy made her giggle?" Shawn paused in wonder, and then he spoke in a near whisper, "She's barely spoken to me." He wrinkled his brow and turned to his best friend, "There's no way that guy is better looking than me - us? Right, Gus."

"No way, Shawn. Taller, yes, better looking? I don't think so."

Shawn seemed placated by his friend's reply. "Thank you, Gus. They certainly don't have our great hair."

"No, they do not." Gus stalked over to the door. He squared his shoulders before pulling the door open. "Gentlemen, can we help you? Or are you just here to leer at our receptionist?"

Both Sam and Dean looked rightfully scolded. "Actually, we were hoping we could talk to you about the Historical Society," Sam responded.

"Hmpf, well, all right then. Why don't you come in the office so we can talk?" Gus moved away from the door. "Inga, you can go home, now."

Inga sighed in boredom then gathered her things. She sashayed out of the office, oblivious to the four pairs of eyes that followed her.

Dean was the last to look away. When he finally couldn't see her anymore, he pointed at the door and turned to Shawn. "That's your secretary?"

Shawn and Gus looked rather smug. "Yes, Inga is our receptionist," Gus answered. "Is there a problem with that?"

Both Winchesters shook their heads. "No, not at all," Sam answered. "I just think we would have stopped by much sooner if we had known about her." Sam added hoping to dispel some of the tension in the room.

Shawn grimaced, leaned against his desk with his arms folded. He was irritated that he hadn't quite figured out these two guys. Taking in their new attire, Shawn said, "What's with the salute to the Seattle grunge look? I thought you guys were Stones fans."

Sam shot Dean a worried look, but Dean ignored Shawn and Sam. "We were hoping you could help us with the De La Guerra thing," he said to Gus.

"You want our help?" Gus asked as he moved to lean next to Shawn.

"Help?" Shawn began, "With what? The case is closed. Caught the bad guy. Recovered stolen property." He and Gus fist bumped. "What else is there? Am I forgetting something?" Shawn looked at Gus, but Gus just shrugged. "Oh, wait, the break in last night committed by you fake FBI guys. Yeah, I wasn't going to do anything about that since you stopped Campbell from getting away," Shawn said with a glare at Dean that most people wouldn't attempt.

Dean took a deep breath, but Sam decided to speak up. "Look, we were just hoping Gus could tell us where De La Guerra is buried."

"We broke into the Historical Society because you told us the ghost was Powers," Dean said looking at Shawn.

"Our research into Powers' past told us he was killed, rather gruesomely in Mexico," Sam started.

Dean took over. "In order to destroy the ghost, and stop it from killing again."

"You had to bind it to one of its possessions and then destroy that possession," Gus finished, surprising the others immensely. "So, why do you need to know where De La Guerra is buried?"

It took Dean a second to get over his initial shock of Gus knowing about destroying ghosts. "Because psychic boy here was wrong about the ghost. It wasn't Powers, or not just Powers, it was De La Guapa, too," Dean replied.

"Guerra," Sam corrected.

"Whatever," Dean said with an irritated eye roll. "So -"

"Do you guys hear yourselves?" Shawn asked stepping away from Gus and his desk. "Ghosts? There are no ghosts. Let alone ghosts capable of murder."

"You saw it yourself last night, Shawn." Gus was shocked at Shawn's denial.

"Do you think I threw myself into that glass cabinet?" Sam asked defensively.

"A psychic that's a skeptic, that's a new one for me," Dean muttered as he leaned against the far wall.

Sam found it difficult to believe that someone who had witnessed all that Shawn had seen in the past twenty four hours could still deny the existence of ghosts.

"How do you explain what you saw last night or the cold spell Juliet felt today?" Gus demanded. "This morning you said that you thought it was a ghost."

Shawn shook his head. "Yes, I did Gus, but that was before I went back there. There was a surveillance camera that wasn't there the day before. They could have set it up to project that image. And that guy," Shawn pointed to Dean, "could have cranked up the air conditioning when he was on the other side of the room. We were almost directly under a vent."

The others in the room stared blankly at Shawn for a moment.

Gus was the last to look away. He shook his head then turned to Sam and Dean. "The entire De La Guerra family is interred at the Santa Barbara Mission." Shawn's mouth fell open at his friend's betrayal.

Sam smiled, "Thanks, Gus."

Dean nodded. "Uh, wait." He dug his keys from his pocket. "The one by the warehouse district or the -"

"The other one. The historical one with the bell towers, across the street from the Historical Society," Gus answered confidently.

Again, Dean nodded, "Thanks." The Winchesters started to the door.

"Wait. Everybody just stop," Shawn nearly shouted. "Gus, we can't let them go there. You saw what they did to the Historical Society. You can't have them destroy the Mission, too. You don't even know who they are." He turned to the Winchesters. "I won't let you destroy the Mission. I'll call Juliet. I'll even call Lassiter."

The Winchesters stopped. Dean turned to Shawn and smirked, "Fine. Call 'em. The case you closed up so neatly will get thrown out. I don't think you want that."

Shawn didn't take the bait. He narrowed his eyes, daring Dean to continue.

"I'm not sure, my brother, here, is the law expert, but I think the fact that we were part of the arrest might be enough for a good lawyer to have the case thrown out." Dean watched Shawn lose a little ground. "Then there's the Campbell guy's story. Somebody - or something - hit him." Dean chanced a look at Gus who seemed to be approving of Dean's tactic. "Why would he fake getting hit? Why didn't Campbell leave?"

Sam's face began to brighten. "And why did Campbell call the cops, when he still had the things he stole on his truck?"

"Because he had to get them back in there," an excited Gus answered. "Whoa, why did he have to get them back in there?"

"Because, they're cursed," Dean answered brusquely.

"Cursed? Oh, so now there are curses, too?" Shawn asked, not sure any longer what he could believe.

"The De La Guerras practiced Santeria," Sam said plainly, assuming that would make everything clear to Shawn.

"The song by Sublime? That doesn't make any sense." Shawn seemed confused as he looked at the others in the room.

"Santeria is like Voo Doo, Shawn," Gus said bluntly. Then he sank against the desk as the realization of his words dawned on him. "The stuff the police took into evidence, it's cursed?" Sam nodded. "Does that mean the police are in danger?" Gus asked with obvious concern.

Sam sighed. "We aren't sure. The best we can do is get rid of De La Guerra's ghost and restore whatever binding spell was holding Powers."

"The De La Guerra's used Santeria to keep Powers spirit from harming them and others. When renovations were made to the brick wall, the workers broke the spell. Now, Powers and De La Guerra are duking it out all over again," Dean said before turning to Shawn. "That's what I was doing when I was at the wall, not playing with the thermostat."

Shawn was astonished. It was rare to feel like the only same one in the room. "So there are two ghosts and a curse. Do I hear three? Will anybody give me three?"

Gus shot Shawn a disapproving look before asking more questions. "How is Powers haunting the place? Wasn't he killed in Mexico and fed to a herd of pigs?" Shawn looked at Gus incredulously. Gus raised a brow. "What, Shawn, some of us do our own homework."

"Dude, that's just so," Shawn made a disgusted face.

Dean nodded his agreement. "Yeah, but it's also an easy story to fake."

Sam took over the explanation. "We're not sure what happened exactly, but we're sure Powers, or part of Powers, is buried under that wall."

While Gus took a moment to let Sam's statement sink in, Shawn could only shake his head. "How do you know that?" Shawn asked.

"His gun," Dean answered. "The paperwork we got from Mrs. DuMont said the gun was recovered during the renovation." Dean could tell from the looks on Gus's and Shawn's faces that he'd have to explain more. "Well, would you go anywhere without your gun?"

"I don't carry a gun," Shawn said simply.

"I carry a phone," Gus admitted.

"Two phones," Shawn pointed out.

Gus nodded, "That's right, two phones, no gun."

Dean was forced to close his eyes for a minute and take a deep breath. Seeing his brother's exasperation, Sam decided to continue. "What my brother is trying to explain is that, back then, a guy like Powers, who was known for carrying a certain gun, wouldn't leave Santa Barbara without it. He wouldn't just get a gun anywhere. Powers' life depended on his gun, he had to trust it."

"But the pig story?" Gus questioned.

"Could still be what happened to him, in the end," Dean suggested. "But, we're pretty certain he was murdered in the Guapa homestead."

"Guerra," Sam and Gus corrected in unison.

"I've heard both ways," Shawn muttered quietly as he thought about the story. The pieces were beginning to fit together in his mind. It now made sense to him why the father's watch chain was the weapon in Loni Taylor's murder, not the necklace as he originally thought.

"So, Theresa and Powers were all set to run away together, but Daddy De La Guava finds out. When he tries to stop them, he finds that Theresa had already turned Powers down. Powers being the 'if I can't have you no one can' type of guy, kills the poor girl, just as Daddy shows up. Daddy kills Powers. Guava can't go to the sheriff because the law, at the time, is notorious for hating the Mexicans, especially the wealthy ones." Shawn paused and looked at the brothers. "But just like now, enough money can buy a cover up."

"Exactly," Dean sighed. "The rich daddy De La Guerra sends some boys down to Mexico pretending to search for Powers and they come back with the pig story. There would be no way to prove it anyway."

"Believing in Santeria as they did, the De La Guerra family would have thought Powers would come back as an angry spirit," Sam explained. "So, they did what they could to prevent it."

"And it worked until the renovations broke into that wall," Gus added enthusiastically.

Sam and Dean nodded and made to leave. "If you guys could see your way so that we're not arrested until we put the spirits to rest, we'd appreciate it," Dean said with a look toward Shawn.

"Wait," Gus called out stopping the Winchesters. "How are you going to stop both De La Guerra and Powers?"

Sam turned back to Gus. "Uh, well, I guess we'll go stop De La Guerra and then go to the Historical Society and stop Powers."

"When are you guys doing this?" Shawn asked quickly.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. "Not until nightfall, obviously, but we'll do it tonight."

"Good. That gives us time to get something to eat," Shawn said. "Who's up for fries quatro queseo dos fritos? Gus?"

Gus nodded, "Definitely." He grabbed his keys off his desk.

Sam and Dean were momentarily stunned into silence. Dean stuttered his reply, "Hey, uh, no, guys. Thanks, but you're not coming with us. It's too dangerous."

"Yes, we are. That thing tossed Gigantor there around like he was nothing. Now, you're saying there's a curse involved. You guys need us." Shawn shook his head slightly. "You guys can't be in two places at once. We're going with you." He began to walk to the door, then he turned, "You were talking about the ghost thing and not the food thing, right? 'Cause we're totally doing the food thing. No one can put souls to rest on an empty stomach."

Sam and Dean could only look hopelessly at each other. Shawn watched as the brothers had a complete conversation via nonverbal head movements and eye rolls. Then Shawn tried to hide his smirk, as he saw the decision fall in his favor.

"Fine, you can come with us," Dean relented. "But, you have to do what we say."

Gus and Shawn bumped fists. "Of course, Mulder, you guys are the experts. We'll just have your backs," Shawn added happily. "So, fries quatro, right?"

Sam chuckled, "Yeah, but I'm Sam and he's Dean. Not Scully and Mulder."

"And I'm driving," Dean said with a nod to Gus.

* * *

After devouring their orders of fries quatro queseo dos fritos, which even Sam had to agree were 'awesomely delicious', Sam and Dean discussed who was going to handle the De La Guerras and who was going to face Powers. When it came to the set jaw versus the bitch face, Dean held out his fist. Sam nodded, agreeing to let rock paper scissors determine their assignments. Dean pulled scissors, Sam, rock, but Shawn rushed over and threw his hand in palm up fingers waving. "Fire. Beats both rock and scissors so I win."

Sam and Dean turned to him unamused. "Fine," Dean bit out. "What do you win?"

"I pick partners." Shawn looked at Gus. "Gus goes with Sam, I go with you. Where're we going?"

Dean turned to his brother. "You guys get the Mission." Sam's mouth fell open, but Dean ignored it. Looking at Shawn, he added, "We get the homestead."

Sam grimaced but Shawn nearly grinned. "Good," he replied as he followed Dean towards the Impala before yelling, "Shotgun!"

Sam laughed, "What? I don't think so."

Shawn gasped and looked to Dean. "I called it."

Dean shrugged, "Sorry, Sammy." Dean pointed to Shawn. "He called it." Sam rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders as he folded himself into the back seat of the car.

"Yeah, Sam, the rules of shotgun are clearly well established and universally accepted," Shawn said with a smile as he took his 'rightful' place in the front seat.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean took Sam and Gus to the Santa Barbara Mission. "After you take care of daddy De La whatever, maybe take care of the mom, too," Dean suggested handing Sam a bag of tools from the trunk.

"Yeah, I was thinking Theresa," Sam said shouldering the bag.

Both Shawn and Gus were astounded by the weapons cache the brothers were carrying.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, makes sense." He looked at Gus. "Gus, you ever handle a gun?"

Gus shrugged, "Yeah, once or twice, but, not regularly."

"My dad took us shooting a couple times when we were kids," Shawn volunteered pretending not to see Gus's frown.

Dean pressed his lips together and looked at the guns in the trunk. He nodded and selected one. He held it out to Gus, but didn't relinquish it. "You know the basics, right?"

Gus looked offended. "Yeah."

"Good, 'cause that's my brother, I need you to have his back." Dean gave up the gun. "It's loaded with salt rounds. If you accidentally shoot Sam, it'll hurt him, but won't kill him." Gus nodded. "And I'll hurt you." Gus's eyes widened, he swallowed and nodded again. "Good. Be careful," Dean added with a clap on Gus's shoulder.

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's over-protective attitude. "We got this, Dean. Have fun storming the castle." Dean barked a laugh and returned to the driver's seat. "Hey, Shawn," Sam called.

"Yeah?" Shawn paused before getting back in the car.

"Shotgun on the way back."

* * *

Dean parked in the same location he and Sam had the night before. Going to the trunk, Dean packed a bag similar to the one Sam had carried. "Do I get a gun?" Shawn asked.

"Yeah," Dean answered quietly, carefully choosing the right weapon for Shawn. "You're supposed to have my back," Dean reminded him. "I've grown rather fond of it so don't let anything happen to it." He handed Shawn a gun. "This has salt rounds, too. If you see the ghost, either ghost, shoot it."

"Why is salt the condiment of choice?"

Dean shrugged. "The ghosts don't like it. It dispels them and it usually takes a minute or two for the spirit to regroup." Dean grabbed a crowbar before closing the trunk.

"Whoa, what's that for?"

"Well, two things. One, its iron, another thing that ghosts don't like. And two, I gotta get under the floor by the brick wall."

* * *

The Mission was quiet, peaceful even, making Gus think he and Sam had the easy job. "So, Sam, what are we doing, exactly? How are you getting rid of the De La Guerra spirits?"

"Well, after I open the crypt. I'm going to have to salt and burn their corpses," Sam spoke in a matter of fact manner, but his words didn't stop Gus's disgust.

Gus froze. "You have to do what, now?"

Sam had found the De La Guerra entombment. "Yeah, uh, salt and burn the body. It's the best way to make sure the spirit is put to rest."

"Dude, that's just nasty."

"Yeah," Sam nodded his agreement. "Hey, uh, do me a favor and stand over here." Sam pointed to a stone wall about ten feet away.

"Okay." Gus did as he was told. Sam pull bag of salt from his pack. "Now what?"

"Well, I'm going to pour this salt on the ground around you. It will serve as protection from the spirits should we get any angry enough to try to stop us." When he finished, Sam looked at Gus. "Now, if the line isn't broken, you'll be fine. Keep an eye out for any kind of movement. If you see something, holler. I'll take care of it."

"Right, I'll just stay right here while you do your thing," Gus agreed gladly even though his face is a picture of disgust and horror. "Man, I thought I had a bad job. How'd you get this job, anyway?"

Sam smirked as he pulled off De La Guerra's name plate. "Worst guidance counselor ever."

* * *

As Dean picked the lock on the office door to the Historical Society, he asked, "Shawn, why'd you decide to come with me? Hoping to see if the ghost is real?"

Shawn shook his head. "No, you all seem pretty convinced that it is." He looked around, making sure they weren't being watched. "Sam's your younger brother. You look out for him. You weren't going to let him take the more dangerous job." Dean nodded. "Well, Gus is my brother from another mother. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to him."

"I can understand that," Dean said as he cracked the door open. "Okay, now that we're in, things might get a little hairy. Shoot first, worry about it later. Like I told Gus, the salt rounds hurt people but don't kill them."

"Right, got it." Shawn followed Dean to the main room.

As soon as they entered, Dean went to the brick wall where he had found the Santeria markings, earlier. He pulled a container of salt from his pack. "Shawn, here." he tossed it to him. "Make a circle with that and get inside."

Shawn caught the salt, but was looking around, he didn't make the circle. "Shawn? Your psychic vibes picking something up that I should know about?"

Shawn was squinting at the wall where it joined the ceiling over Dean's head. "There are marks on the molding of the other walls, but not on that one. Should you put one there?"

Dean looked up at the place Shawn was pointing to. "I don't think it would help right now." He put some weight on the crowbar and pried loose a floor board. As he went to work on the second one, he felt the air grow cold. "Shawn, did you get the salt down?"

Instead of the verbal answer he was expecting, Dean heard a loud thud then the sound of breaking wood. "Shawn!" he called as he drew his gun. "You okay, man?"

As Shawn muttered, "Yeah," and stood, a small wooden table slid across the floor and nearly into Dean. But before it hit him, Dean moved out of its path.

Both men looked around for a moment. "Shawn," Dean called, "get the salt down, now."

"I dropped it and the gun."

"Get it. Put the salt in a circle. Now." Dean commanded before he fired his gun at the apparition that formed behind Shawn.

"Dude, that was a little too close," Shawn began to complain, but when he saw Dean's expression he stopped. Instead, he found his gun, picked up the salt and made the circle.

Dean kept watch as Shawn poured the circle. "Good. He can't touch you now. He can still send things flying though, so, watch your back. And mine." Dean added with a point at Shawn. Then he went back to the floorboards. "Come on, Sammy, hurry up," he muttered under his breath.

Shawn's eyes darted around the room, but were continually drawn back to Dean's actions. Dean was reaching into the hole he had created. Shawn suddenly did not want to know what Dean was hoping to find.

* * *

Gus gagged a few times when Sam first opened the casket holding the De La Guerra patriarch, but what he saw next made his mouth fall open. It was as if the shadows in the corner of the room came to life. Slowly his brain reacted to what he was seeing. "S-s-sam, on, on your right," Gus directed. Sam turned as directed, but Gus overcame his fright and fired his gun into the shadow.

"Good work, Gus," Sam called, hurrying his actions. Salt, kerosene, match, and flame.

"Th -thanks, Sam," Gus said having regained some composure after seeing a ghost; he really did not feel like losing it over the burning corpse stench. He began to cross the salt line.

"Whoa, Gus," Sam said holding up his hand. "We're not done. I should take care of Theresa, too."

Gus tried to control his nausea and returned to his position behind the salt line. "Really? I don't remember seeing her ghost." Gus was hoping he didn't have to endure another burn.

"Well, the circumstances of her death make it likely that she is a restless spirit," Sam replied before moving to Theresa's name plate.

* * *

Back at the Historical Society, Dean had located the stones he assumed were used to mark Powers final resting spot. Then he realized that there was no way to retrieve the remains. "Shawn, once Sammy takes care of daddy dearest, we could have a problem."

"Being tossed like a rag doll wasn't a problem?" Shawn asked sarcastically.

"Just," Dean paused wondering how to explain what was going to happen. "Look, when daddy's gone no one will be keeping Powers in check, so until I complete this little ritual, we're sitting ducks."

Shawn nodded and wondered why he had offered to come along.

The items Dean pulled from the pack worried Shawn, leaving him to hope that Dean knew what he was doing and wasn't actually certifiably insane. Chicken bones? Candles? Shawn couldn't worry for long. All around the room, things began to vibrate. First, it was small items, but soon, larger and larger things began to move up and down in place.

"Dude! Hurry up!" Shawn yelled, looking around hoping to find something to shoot.

Dean didn't waste time with a reply. He flipped open a book, lit the candles, and began the ritual. While he did, Shawn watched as bits of what seemed to be shadow, drew together to form the shape of a man. Shawn froze his mind unwilling to accept what his eyes were seeing. The smoky shape started to solidify and it glared at Shawn. With hands shaking like a leaf, Shawn raised his gun and fired. "Dean! Powers was here and he didn't look happy."

Then, it was as if a giant fan had been switched on. Dean's candles flickered and he moved in an attempt to keep them lit. Shawn watched in horror as his salt circle gradually blew away.

Next, both Shawn and Dean were pelted with the shards of wood and glass from the broken display cases. Shawn was about to cover his face when he saw Powers materialize behind Dean. Without hesitation, Shawn fired his gun. The salt round hitting both Powers and Dean.

* * *

Gus and Sam had their own problems. Upon pulling Theresa's casket from the crypt, Sam made a disturbing discovery. Behind her casket was a wooden box covered with Santeria markings. When he pulled it from its resting place, it fell open revealing a human head. Gus's eyes rolled back in his head and he crumbled to the floor.

The next thing Gus knew, Sam was gently shaking him by the shoulder. "Gus, you all right?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure," was his grumbled reply. He allowed Sam to help him up. "Sorry, about that, but I swear I saw a head." He offered Sam a weak smile.

Sam smiled, "No problem, man. A person's first decapitation can be a little rough." Sam strode over to the head and unceremoniously kicked it into its box. "After this, I think we're done."

* * *

"Dean, dude, I'm so sorry. Make a bad 'I got your back joke' if you're all right," Shawn called desperately from across the room

"It's not the first time I've been shot, Shawn." Dean almost laughed as he pushed himself off the wall. "Give me Inga's number, and we'll call it even."

"Done. How much more do you have to do?" Shawn asked while his eyes roamed the room looking for Powers.

"Not much. Need maybe a minute." He relit the candles and put some charms into the hole under the floor boards.

As he was about to finish, Dean heard Shawn croak, "Help!" Dean turned with his gun drawn to find Shawn being choked and lifted off the ground by the spirit of Jack Powers. Shawn was thrashing so much that Dean was worried about getting a clean shot. When suddenly, Powers spirit flamed out and Shawn fell to the floor.

The teams spent the next half hour cleaning up and restoring the historical landmarks as best they could.

When Sam gave Gus the word that he could leave the salt circle, Gus immediately asked if he could open windows and turn on the ceiling fans. Then he asked Sam, "So, really, this is your job?"

Sam chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, this is pretty much it."

"Well, it's cool and all, but how do you get paid?"

"We don't."

Gus was shocked. "You don't? Then I'm guessing the benefits package leaves a lot to be desired."

Sam smiled brightly. "The job has benefits, just not the monetary kind."

They worked silently for a minute, and then Gus spoke up again. "Did you ever meet Jay and Grant from TV?"

Shaking his head, Sam looked confused. "Nope, never heard of them."

* * *

Dean and Shawn looked around the Historical Society. Even after working for a half hour, the place still looked like a tornado had struck.

Dean dragged a weary hand over his face. "I don't think there's much more we can do."

Shawn nodded. "I think I can convince Mrs. DuMont that the spirits did this. Then I'll convince her that I can put them to rest. I'll just need a ceremony or something."

Dean looked worried. "Dude, no ceremonies. I don't want to screw with -"

Shawn held up his hand. "Nothing real, man. I'll just mumble some stuff and yell some gibberish."

Dean studied Shawn then nodded. "Okay, but I gotta ask you something; do you know anything about a demon with yellow eyes?"

Shawn's brows rose to his hairline. "Demons are real, too?"

"Yeah," Dean sighed, "and I guess that answered my question." He looked around then said, "Let's get out of here."

Gus and Sam were already at the Impala, replacing their tools, when Shawn and Dean left the building. When Sam saw them he called, "Hey, how'd it go?"

"Just finished the ritual when Powers flamed out. You guys must've found something," Dean answered.

"Oh, we found something," Gus retorted with a shudder at the memory of the head rolling from its box.

Shawn handed Dean his gun then sniffed a couple times. "Gus, why do you smell like a campfire?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Shawn," Gus turned to Sam, "I'd say I'm burning these clothes, but I don't think I ever want to see another match."

Sam smiled. "It'll come out in the wash, might take a couple of times," he shrugged.

"Dude," Shawn sniffed again then wrinkled his nose at Gus. "Like a campfire and smoked sausage."

"Enough, Shawn."

"Come on, dude! I honestly had no idea he was going to be pulling a corpse from the ground," Shawn pleaded.

Gus raised a brow at his friend. "Don't worry about it, Shawn. I honestly didn't know I was going to be putting my foot in your ass. Life's full of surprises."

As Dean replaced the last of the tools, Sam said, "Dean, you've got something all over your back." Sam stepped closer in order to dust his brother's back. Dean hissed quietly as Sam's hand wiped the salt off his back. Sam heard him and realized immediately what had happened. "Shawn, you shot my brother?"

Shawn began to sputter a retort, but Dean answered for him. "Sam, he had no choice, man. He was saving my ass." He clapped Shawn on the shoulder, and smirked, "Who needs a drink? I'm buying."

"I definitely need a drink," Gus admitted. "But, we're buying."

Back at the Psych office, the four sat down to pretzels, beer and every other kind of snack Shawn could scrounge from their cupboards. Gus went to his car and returned with a case that he handed to Sam. "Here, take this."

Sam looked surprised. "What is it?"

"It's a promotional kit my company puts together. And some extras."

Sam opened the top of the line first aid kit and found it stuffed with pharmaceutical samples. "Gus thanks, but couldn't you get in trouble for this?"

Gus brushed off Sam's concern. "I got it covered. And with your lousy benefit package, you guys need it." Sam nodded his thanks.

"So, ghosts are real, huh?" Shawn asked as he sat back with his beer.

"Yep," Dean answered with a sigh.

"And demons," Shawn confirmed.

Gus looked at the brothers in expectant shock. "Demons are real? Head spinnin', pea soup spittin', full on Linda Blair bed raisin' - is real?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah, sorry man."

"Huh," Shawn said with a frown and a nod. "What about all those other kinds of things that go bump in the night?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a quick look. "Like what?" Sam asked.

"Werewolves?" Shawn asked with narrowed eyes.

With a small nod, Dean answered, "Rare, but real."

"Witches?" Shawn asked.

"Real," Dean shuddered, and then he pointed at Gus and Shawn. "And they're evil bitches. Don't mess with one."

"What about vampires?" Gus asked.

"Also rare, but very real," Sam replied quickly.

Shawn and Gus leaned against the desk and thought about those revelations for a moment. They looked at each other before turning to the Winchesters, asking in unison, "Buffy?"

The Winchesters looked surprised momentarily, and then Dean shook his head and chuckled, "I wish."

Sam smiled, but shook his head. "No, no Buffy."

Shawn looked crushed. "Well, that hardly seems - fair."

Gus nodded his agreement. "No, it sure doesn't."

Shawn went on, "I mean if all this other stuff is real, a cute demon fighting slayer should be real, too."

"I hear that," Dean said with a toast of his beer.

Sam laughed, "And as far as we know, there's no Scooby-doo, either."

Shawn looked at Sam in exasperation. "Dude, of course not. That was a cartoon. Buffy was a real person."

"Right, sorry. Don't know what I was thinking," Sam replied smiling.

"And Dean's 'mystery machine' - way cooler," Shawn added.

"You got that right," Dean acknowledged with a tip of he beer.

When the Winchesters were ready to leave, Sam handed Gus a card. "You know, for if you ever run across a similar problem."

Gus took the card with a nod. "Thanks, but if we do, it'll be too soon."

Shawn took the card and rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner. "Seriously, guys? Still with the fake names?" Sam and Dean looked confused. "Winchester? Like the bar?" Now the brothers really looked confused. "Shawn of the Dead." Shawn dropped the card onto Gus's desk. "Great movie, but come on Sam, stick with the rock aliases."

Sam went to explain, but Dean stopped him with a shake of his head. "We'll see you around guys. Thanks for your help. And, Gus, next time we talk to Jay and Grant, we'll tell them you say 'hi'." Shawn gave Dean a knowing smile.

Gus beamed, and leaned to Shawn and whispered, "Told you."

As they drove off, Sam asked, "Who are Jay and Grant?"

"I have no idea. But, Shawn said he'd give me Inga's number if I said that to Gus. Like I'm turning that down," Dean replied holding up a folded up scrap of paper.

The end.


End file.
